


Pride (And a Lot of Prejudice)

by literaryempress



Series: Max and Isaac's Infinite Storybook [11]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexuality, Boys Kissing, Bullying, Chicago (City), Coming Out, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Feelings, Forced Marriage, Gun Violence, Guns, High School, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, House Party, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Pansexual Character, Protective Mickey Milkovich, Protectiveness, Sexual Content, Slurs, Social Media, Spin the Bottle, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, Worried Mickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 14:24:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7466781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryempress/pseuds/literaryempress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There are still a lot of people in this world who aren’t as accepting as you want them to be. We can’t live in a perfect world like that, one where there aren’t any people as judgmental and ignorant as my dad or your classmates. They want us to hide in the shadows and all that shit. That’s where we’ve been for years, and no matter how proud of ourselves we can be, people out there will just shit all over our happiness."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pride (And a Lot of Prejudice)

Isaac usually didn’t go to parties as often as his older brother Max did. He liked them, don’t get him wrong; he just wasn’t as outgoing as some of the other teenagers at his school were. Some of them would go all out, buy a shit ton of food that wouldn’t fit in their fridge once the party was over with, play loud music, and invite over thirty people into a cramped little home. Isaac didn’t understand what the big deal was, though. Parties can be held without spending a shit ton of money, right?

Going all out just seemed too overrated for him nowadays. He may have wanted that when he was a kid, but now he’s older and more mature and realistic. Spending that much money on a one-night event was completely wasteful.

And yet, regardless of that thought, Isaac still managed to end up in one of those parties anyway.

The one he attended today was an end-of-the-year party for all of the rising seniors in celebration of completing their junior year of high school. One more year, and they would all be free from that prison yard everyone called Bill Barden College Prep.

Isaac wasn’t as well known in Barden College Prep as some of his other classmates, despite the fact that his father is a Milkovich. You would think that people would be scared of the seventeen-year-old, considering all of the horror stories that have been told around the neighborhood about Mickey, his brothers, and the Milkovich patriarch. In reality, Mickey isn’t as violent and fearful as people made him out to be when he was a teenager. Ever since he married Ian and started having kids, he’s been a lot calmer, a lot nicer, and a lot more approachable. He still maintains his behavioral mannerisms and has a tendency to get defensive every now and then, but overall, Mickey Milkovich is a new man.

Still, the last name _Milkovich_ and its reputation felt like a pinch of salt to the tongue, even as Isaac reminisced on the times Mickey told stories about his childhood – or the lack of one, anyway.

People like Lydia Sanders, however, weren’t too affected by the Milkovich family history. She saw Isaac as average as any other teenager to roam the halls of Barden College Prep. Granted, she is one of the socialites of the rising senior class, but she saw the good in most people, unlike some of the snotty girls in the same graduating class as she and Isaac were in.

Lydia lived in a very spacious home on the North Side of Chicago. Her family wasn’t that rich or anything, but compared to the Gallagher-Milkovich household, she had a lot of things handed to her on a silver platter. The outside of her home was painted a nice frost white coat, with the shutters painted a very dark shade of navy blue. The front lawn had a nice bed of freshly-cut green grass, just like how Lydia’s father Kyle Sanders liked it.

Isaac hoped to live somewhere as nice as this. He loved his childhood home, too, but it couldn’t hurt to have a big house to himself and his future family, could it?

Almost two-thirds of Isaac’s graduating class had arrived already, most of them standing in a line in front of the house entrance. Apparently Lydia charged admission – two-fifty for the girls, and three bucks for the guys – which Isaac didn’t believe was completely fair. Then again, she seemed to have bought a ton of shit for this party – Isaac still couldn’t believe; she could have waited until their senior year, right?

Plus, she’s the token feminist, and after working on that English paper on pink tax, gender and marketing, this was most likely one of her ways of calling out the government on their bullshit. Why she had to do it for an end-of-the-year party for all her classmates, Isaac wasn’t sure, really, but she was in no room to judge her.

So after waiting for a good five minutes just to get to the front porch, Isaac pulled out three singles from his pocket and handed them to one of Lydia’s friends, Traci Elliott. Since Lydia’s the hostess of the event, she had her friends carry out everything else – from collecting money to playing the music, which was currently breaking every sound barrier possible.

“Hey, Isaac,” Traci greeted him with a smile, retrieving Isaac’s money and placing it inside the red bucket she held in her arms. “Glad you could make it.” Isaac politely smiled back, because he honestly had no idea what he wanted to say to her. She, too, was one of the socialites of their graduating class. A member of the popular clique. A women’s basketball player. Something about her made Isaac feel smaller in comparison, though he couldn’t deny that she was a good person in general.

The inside of the house was almost as dark as the outside, sans the multicolored lights flashing in the room. Some of the party guests had glow-in-the-dark neck rings that came in different colors. For an unnecessarily expensive party, it looked cool so far.

With a turn of his head to the left, Isaac could already spot two party guests standing by the wall near the entrance to the kitchen. One of them was a petite girl with a white, gold, and purple bow in her hair – Isaac assumed she was one of the cheerleaders. Her strawberry blonde hair was put up in a curly ponytail, a bobby pin holding some hair in place on top of her head. In front of her, her boyfriend – or some flirt who wanted to talk to her; Isaac wasn’t sure which – towered over her frame, his right forearm pushing against the wall, holding him up as he grinned down at the Barden College Prep cheerleader in front of her. He had on a varsity jacket with the same colors as the girl’s bow, accompanying the gold bulldog embroidered on the back.

Unlike his older brother, who was a big fan of football and baseball – the latter on some occasions – Isaac wasn’t a fan of sports nor was he ever interested in playing any in high school. Thankfully, Ian and Mickey didn’t put a lot of pressure on him to join a sports team like some other parents.

Though from the looks of the scene before him, being the big jock on a sports team – preferably basketball and football – gets you the girls nowadays. Isaac’s not believing that it’s necessarily true, but he’s watched enough high school movies and heard a bunch of stories to know how accurate that sounds.

For the next couple of minutes, Isaac just wandered around the space, observing the people conversing amongst themselves by the stairs or dancing to the music in the living room. Usually when there were fun events like this, Isaac would find himself going with Max. They were a close-knit duo growing up, and Isaac wanted nothing more than for that to stick as they got older.

However, things do change. Max got himself a girlfriend and became one of the most popular boys in his graduating class before he finished high school in Isaac’s freshman year. Since he dedicated himself to Western Illinois University, the brothers spent less time together, primarily due to Max’s work load and will to start exercising more. He did get a football scholarship from there after all, something his fathers couldn’t be prouder of him for.

Almost three full years later, and while Max is making connections at his new school, Isaac’s alone in high school. The brothers still got to hang out in the summer and during Max’s breaks, but other than that, Isaac’s pretty much a loner.

The more he roamed around Lydia Sanders’s home, the more he wondered why someone like her would even invite him to a party as big as this one. What was it about him that interested her at all? Isaac didn’t find himself that interesting, really. Most of the flavor he thought he had as a kid wore off the more he buried himself in the concept of success both of his fathers planted in his head. Neither Ian nor Mickey completed high school the same way Max did – and the way Isaac will, in a year’s time – and as the kids grew up, the couple wanted them to make better choices. Ian tutored the boys in English and History whenever he could. Mickey scanned through the Math textbooks every now and then. They both took turns training Max for football season. Ian would pitch in and help Isaac with all of his projects – well, the ones that didn’t require a teammate anyway.

Isaac just wanted to make his dads feel proud. He wanted to be proud of himself. All he cared about was doing well in school so he could go to college like his older brother and have that successful life Ian and Mickey have been talking about. For him, there was almost no room for high school friends.

There was a table somewhere in the middle of the first floor of the house. On the surface contained a fruit bowl, a few chip bowls, and some red solo cups filled to the brim with sour, neon gummy worms. At least there was something about coming here today that put him at ease. It wasn’t until he went to get some punch, though, that he realized one of the party guests – a member of the Barden College Prep swim team – spiked the drink with some brand of vodka. Isaac never drank before, though he’s seen Max drink a couple of times in the past. Neither Ian nor Mickey noticed before, though they have stated a couple of times how they wanted their sons to drink at the legal age, as ironic as it sounds coming from them.

And, of course, their rules weren’t enforced by either parent. Maybe Isaac and Max played the part of the good kids very well. Or maybe Ian and Mickey didn’t really like making rules too strict, especially being that their childhoods consisted of anything but strict rules and policies. Isaac wasn’t sure.

Still, the raven-haired boy went to grab an empty red solo cup and the spoon inside the punch bowl, getting himself a respectable amount of spiked punch. He wanted to remain responsible tonight, so he intended on having only so much punch at a time, making sure he didn’t swallow the entire cup whole. Once he had his drink, he took a solo cup of gummy worms for himself and wandered back to the living room with his treats.

At this point, Isaac has no idea what he wants to do. He somewhat knows most of the people who have attended, yet he doesn’t know anyone at all. He feels smaller than he felt earlier. Invisible, really. It’s like he never meant to belong here.

He sits in the empty, comfy chair near the archway that separates the hallway from the living room and watched as a bunch of classmates danced to a remixed version of a song he couldn’t recognize. Isaac wasn’t much of a dancer, either, but he liked seeing people dance. They looked so carefree with themselves. Some danced like they were in every corner of the room, and others danced with some friends or a significant other like they were the only ones in the room that mattered.

Maybe someone could help Isaac feel that way. Right now, though, he was pretty content with sitting on the sidelines and watching other people have fun.

As he took a small sip of his punch, he felt a presence beside him. When he looked up, he was met with the amber eyes of one of the high school basketball players. Isaac could tell because of how tall he was and the socks with the basketballs on them he had on that were stretched over the lower halves of his legs. His blond hair was almost covering his eyes completely, so Isaac almost couldn’t make out the expression on his face.

“Milkovich, right?” he asked over the music.

Isaac frowned at him. “What?”

The taller boy rolled his eyes before getting down on one knee next to Isaac’s seat just so he could whisper in his ear. Actually, it wasn’t so much of a whisper; the music was making it complicated to communicate with other people. “I said, Milkovich, right?”

“Oh yeah.”

“The fuck invited you here, bro?”

Isaac’s stomach started to turn at the question. His heart felt like it wanted to leave the party as much as he did. Was there some kind of pact made about not allowing losers or nobodies that Isaac wasn’t unaware of? Was this all some kind of prank?

“Lydia,” Isaac called over the music, though his inside weren’t as strong as his voice.

“Good shit, bro.”

The thing that relieved Isaac the most was that this guy - whoever he was – didn’t even care whether or not he had a loser status. High school was a big deal, according to the movies and the horror stories told to Isaac prior to his freshman year, and the last thing he wanted was to be an outcast for the wrong reasons.

Good thing his interaction with Basket Boy Wonder seemed to be kicking off with a good start.

All of a sudden, a dirty blonde girl made her way over to the two boys. Her hair was in a messy bun, and she had the laziest attire on her body: some gray sweatpants; a thin, white hoodie; a black tank top; and some hot pink Converse shoes. Lydia Sanders honestly looked more down to earth in her house clothes than the attire she wore to class every day, according to Isaac.

Oftentimes, she would come to school with a certain amount of makeup on her face and some designer-esque clothing. It had gotten to the point where Isaac wondered how she even managed to have time to put all of that together every morning.

“Jeff, are you bothering him?” she asked over the new remix that started playing seconds ago.

“What makes you think I’m bothering him?” the basketball player – Jeff – asked the shorter girl. “Jesus, you my fucking mother or something?”

“He’s my guest in my house,” Lydia explained, “I’m pretty sure I have the right to check in on my party guests.” Jeff rolled his eyes before casting a glance at Isaac, giving him that “ _do you see what I have to put up with?_ ” face. Lydia, of course, ignored it and placed a hand on the taller boy’s shoulder. “Go see what Parker’s up to. I’ll handle Isaac on my own.”

Reluctantly, Jeff got up off the floor and made his way out of the living room, leaving Isaac and Lydia within the crowd of party guests who got too lost in the music around them. “Don’t mind Jeff Tucker,” Lydia spoke loudly for Isaac to hear, “he’s an idiot sometimes.”

Isaac chuckled nervously in response. It wasn’t like he could tell all of this before she came over anyway.

Lydia had a big smile on her face as she took a moment to observe Isaac in front of her. Isaac felt somewhat uncomfortable about it since he’s never really had anyone become that interested in him in a while. Then again, she looked like she meant well, to Isaac. What could possibly go wrong tonight?

“You need some time to kill tonight?” Isaac shrugged in response, because Lord knows he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do here. “Come upstairs so you can meet some of my friends. Don’t be a stranger.” She turned on the balls of her feet and headed out of the room before Isaac could even register what was happening.

Isaac hasn’t even been here for that long, and he already got invited to hang out with more of the popular crowd. _I have to be seeing things_ , he thought to himself as he took both of his cups with him out of the living room. He looked around a bit, allowing the flow of the party to settle into his system. He didn’t even drink that much alcohol tonight, and yet, a part of him already feels a little dizzy.

Shaking any nervous thoughts away even for just a moment, Isaac started to walk towards the stairs of the house, climbing them until he got to the second floor landing. Of course, as he made it up there, party guests are already seen making out against the walls, in the bathrooms – anywhere Isaac could see them, really. Some of these people didn’t have much common decency anymore; he swore he could have seen a guy’s butt crack as he towered over his girlfriend near the parents’ master bedroom. Gross.

“Isaac,” he heard Lydia’s voice. The second-floor landing was a little quieter than downstairs, although there’s still loud music playing in the living room. When Isaac turned his head, he could see the blonde girl standing in the doorway of what looked to be her bedroom. He followed the blonde there and then came to an abrupt stop.

Some of Lydia’s closer friends were sitting in a circle in the middle of the room. A couple of them were nursing cups of spiked punch, while others were on their phones, taking photos and joking about the most random things. Instantly, Isaac felt as though he didn’t belong here. He barely knew these people enough to hang out with them aside from the rest of the party. What made Lydia believe he actually belonged here?

“Come on, sit down,” Lydia encouraged him, beckoning him with a wave of his hand. She was nicer than Isaac originally made her out to be, for some reason. The first time Isaac met her, she looked as though she didn’t want anything to do with her. Now, she was all welcoming and charming, which didn’t sit well with the Milkovich, as ironic as that sounds.

But regardless, Isaac followed the blonde to a spot on the floor, taking a seat to her right. On his left was a brunet guy – one of the members of the basketball team, Isaac realized. He had a bowl-shaped haircut, some of the strands getting into his eyes. His skin was just as pale as Isaac’s, though it could be because of the little bit of light from Lydia’s Bath and Body Works candle she has in the middle of the circle. And he had a lot more muscle than Isaac himself had – though, of course, that’s because Isaac doesn’t exercise or play sports like other people at his school do.

Still, though, he looked…nice. Definitely nice.

_Shit, what’s going on in my head right now?_

“Now that everyone is here,” Lydia stated, grabbing the almost empty bottle of alcohol right in front of her, “time for some fun, shall we?”

Isaac had no idea what Lydia meant by fun, but he was willing to do anything other than sit around with cups of punch and gummy worms in his possession all night like a random, scared kid on Halloween night. And for once, Isaac actually felt included in something. He felt grateful for Lydia inviting him to this party and getting him involved in activities like this.

Well…whatever the hell this was.

“Yeah, um,” an Asian girl across the circle from Lydia, “aren’t you Max Gallagher’s brother?” That’s when several more heads turned in Isaac’s direction.

 _No wonder Lydia wanted me here_.

“Uh, yeah,” Isaac responded almost nervously. “He goes to Western Illinois right now.”

“No way,” the Asian girl replied, and Isaac just nodded in response. “That’s my top school here – well, other than Columbia University, obviously.”

A guy with a short buzz cut on Lydia’s left side scoffed. “Is there ever a time you shut up about Columbia?”

“Shut the hell up,” the girl barked. “You’re just mad because your ACT score sucks.”

“Destiny, am I right?”

Lydia clapped her hands together a couple of times to get everyone’s attention. If it’s one thing she despised about having major gatherings like this, it was when arguments between party guests would ensue under her nose. She had some of the best friends in the entire world, sure, but sometimes they behaved like children.

“Okay, we’re not gonna have an ACT discussion at my party,” Lydia stated. “Or a college discussion, or anything that’s just gonna put stress in all of our minds, alright?” The two bickering friends just rolled their eyes and focused their attention on the hostess. “We have one more year of annoying teachers, AP exams, and rules and restrictions until we’re out of that dump for good. Wherever any of us end up after that doesn’t matter, just as long as we’re free. But we’re not there yet. Senior year will be right around the corner before we know it. Tonight isn’t about thinking about senior year; tonight is about having some more fun before we have to suffer another eight months of torture. You wanna know what that means?”

Everyone in the circle shook their heads at Lydia. Isaac grew even more confused with the question than he felt he should. It wasn’t until Lydia grabbed the empty bottle of alcohol a few inches from her that he started to understand.

“Spin the Bottle!” she cheered in a sing-songy tone, and about more than half of the people in the circle cheered as well.

Isaac wasn’t ready for this. He never kissed anyone before, and he had no idea how all of this was going to go. What if his breath smelled from the spiked punch he drank moments ago? What if his lips were too chapped? What if no one in the circle wanted to kiss him? What if Isaac didn’t want to kiss any of them? What if he kissed them the wrong way? Was there even a wrong was to kiss someone?

“You serious, Sanders?” a black guy in the circle asked, watching as Lydia placed the empty bottle in the center of it. “I mean, I’m down for fun and shit, but not even half the people in this circle are my type.”

“Does your ego ever take a break, once in a while?” the Asian girl asked, rolling her eyes.

“The hell do you think I am? My ego don’t stop for no one. It needs its own superhero name or some shit, like The Flash or He Man or something. Now that’s tight.” Some of the people in the circle chuckled, while others didn’t pay him any mind and watched as Lydia prepared to make the first spin of the night.

“And since this is my house and my party,” she stated, “I am going to go first.” With that, she twisted her wrist a bit and let the bottle go, allowing it to spin around in circles until the open end landed on one of the guys in the circle.

It landed on Isaac.

A round of oohs from the guys and high-pitched squeals from the girls have been heard around the circle as Lydia and Isaac exchanged a look. Isaac was completely nervous and had no idea how he was supposed to do this. One of the most popular girls in their grade wanted to kiss Isaac…and with lips.

 _Fuck_.

Thankfully, Lydia scooted closer to the raven-haired boy and whispered, “If you’re worried, I can always lend you a hand.” That seemed to relax Isaac a little bit, and before he knew it, their lips had been joined together in the most blissful manner possible.

Lydia had some really soft lips. Very flavorful lips. They tasted like strawberry mango or something similar. Isaac had no idea what this girl put on them, but boy, he could feel sparks from every limb and every inch of skin on his body.

She was…she was fucking perfect.

When Lydia released her lips from his, Isaac was still in a trance. This was the first time he ever got to kiss a girl. His very first kiss. It felt…so magical. A part of him wonders why he never took this up before.

People around them were still cheering. The black man across from Isaac had the loudest, deepest voice of all of them. “Aw shit, Isaac got some!” he shouted, fist pumping into the air. Isaac’s eyes fell to the ground as he allowed his face to get a little red from the overwhelming shyness he was experiencing.

 _I could probably get used to this_.

* * *

The game lasted a few minutes more, and it was honestly hilarious to the young Milkovich – not in the way you would think.

Some people in the circle would take their turn, as usual, and once the bottle landed on someone of the same sex, the spinner would call for a redo on their own spin. Isaac didn’t understand why, though. They practically watched people kiss other people within the past five or ten minutes, so what was wrong with kissing someone the same sex as them? It didn’t make sense.

Part of that mostly had to do with the fact that Isaac has two gay fathers instead of the traditional one father-one mother household. Since birth, Isaac and Max have been the products of two young men’s love for each other. Ian and Mickey have told them numerous times what influenced them to have kids, what it was about their two sons that were so special to them – they told them everything. Gender and sexuality wasn’t even a thing to Isaac back then, and yet, none of it seemed to matter. “If it’s love, it should surpass everything else,” Isaac remembered Ian say.

That’s what got Ian and Mickey here, in their little home on the South Side of Chicago with their two kids. They were destined for this.

Soon enough, the guy to Isaac’s right started to spin the bottle. Isaac had no idea why he was getting nervous again. He had already kissed about three girls in the circle, just about, and he still stuck by his opinion on gender, sexuality, and the concept of just kissing.

Maybe it had to do with this guy in particular. Isaac had been taking glances over at him for about a few moments during the game. He was a good-looking guy; Isaac couldn’t help it. Something about the way his hair looked underneath the glow of light in the room made Isaac’s body tingle. He also had a smooth-sounding voice, from what Isaac heard as they were all playing the game.

 _He’s fucking gorg_ –

Wait, is Isaac really using that word to describe him?

Isaac almost didn’t register the fact that all eyes were on him now. When the young Milkovich glanced down at the center of the circle, the opening of the bottle was facing him.

 _Shit_.

“Duncan, you cannot back out of this one,” the Asian girl – Molly Stuart – literally begged, but this Duncan guy gave her a shake of his own head. “Come on, please. Vicky and Janine did it, and they’re both girls.”

“Exactly,” the black guy – Eric Lewis, Isaac learned – stated before taking a sip of punch from his cup, “they’re both girls. Guys don’t do that shit.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Eric just shrugged.

Isaac couldn’t focus on Eric and Molly going back and forth among each other across the circle. He had turned his head back towards Duncan. He watched Molly debate with Eric a few times and couldn’t help but smile in response. Duncan had a really nice smile; hell, his teeth could blind you from a mile away. And the way his dimples deepened into his cheeks – Isaac couldn’t help but think that was incredibly cute.

_Fuck. I’m doing it again…_

And that’s when the thought came to him. He never thought about what it would be like to actually kiss a boy before. He’s seen Ian and Mickey do it numerous times during their marriage, and he thought it was sweet and all, but Isaac never thought he would be the one having to kiss or get kissed by another guy.

He wanted to know what it felt like. He wanted to know what his parents felt, because in all honesty, he’s slowly but surely thinking that he’s not the guy he assumed he would be.

_What if…what if I’m not as straight as I thought I was?_

There was only one way to test that theory.

With that in mind, he reached forward to grab a hold of Duncan’s shoulder, turning him around so they were facing each other. Isaac dove into the kiss as quickly as possible, and what he found out amazed him.

Duncan’s lips were very smooth – almost as smooth as a baby’s butt. They were almost as soft as Lydia’s lips, but…strangely a little better. A little more…authentic. Isaac focused so hard on the boy’s bottom lip as he kissed him. He knew that was his favorite part about kissing Lydia when the game first started, so maybe he would have the same effect with Duncan.

And you know what? He did, and when Isaac realized that, he just didn’t want to stop.

That is, until he felt the guy in front of him push him away forcefully with his hands. “Dude, what the fuck?” Duncan barked, and his volume took Isaac back about four years into the past.

Maybe that wasn’t the best way to test his theory after all. But honestly, what would you expect from a teenager whose only knowledge about same sex PDA comes from his biological father and his husband?

“Dude,” Eric spoke, shock written all over his face. “Isaac fuckin’ kissed you, man.”

“What are you, some kind of fag now?” Dan Meyer, another boy somewhere in the circle, spoke all of a sudden, causing everyone in the room minus Duncan, Lydia, and Molly to start laughing in Isaac’s direction.

At this point, Isaac was completely embarrassed, for his heart was racing through his chest like a rocket ready to launch. This was his first time kissing anyone in general – girl or boy – and he was being humiliated. He didn’t get it. What was so wrong about boys kissing boys, or girls kissing girls, to begin with? Not that many people saw anything wrong with the two aforementioned girls kissing each other, yet when Isaac kissed Duncan, the whole game starting turning into a roast for Isaac.

“Listen, man,” Isaac spoke, albeit a little timidly due to the several pairs of eyes looking back at him, “I’m not a fag. Besides, didn’t Vicky and Janine kiss each other, too?”

Janine, the girl with caramel skin and dark hair closer to Isaac’s right, craned her head around so she could get a better look at the young Milkovich. “It’s not like it meant anything to us. I mean, shit, Isaac. We only did it for about two seconds or less. You were trying to eat the poor guy’s face out.” Her last statement earned more giggles around the circle, and Isaac could feel his heart sink even more.

Isaac was now completely alone in all of this.

“Ay, man,” Eric stated, “we should get homie Duncan to the hospital or some shit. You know, make sure the fucker don’t have AIDS or nothin’ from him. You know what I’m saying?”

“I don’t have fucking AIDS,” Isaac barked back aggressively, “and I didn’t give him any, either.”

“Jesus,” Vicky, the curly-haired redhead in the circle teased, “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Nah, man,” Eric responded suddenly, “he kisses his father with it.” More laughs filled the room, and slowly but surely, Isaac couldn’t take it all anymore.

So Isaac stood up off the floor and made a beeline towards the entrance to Lydia’s room, preparing to leave the party altogether. He didn’t get far enough to hear Dan and Eric alert the other party guests obnoxiously over the music that was playing downstairs.

“Yo ladies!” Eric called throughout the hallway, “Isaac’s here to steal your man!”

“Grab ‘em while they’re still safe!” Dan added.

Lydia had just about enough of this. She was already up on her feet and pulling both Dan and Eric away from the doorway and back into the room. “I want you two out of my fucking house,” she barked all of a sudden, angry eyes glancing in the direction of both boys in front of her.

“You’re seriously that mad?” Eric asked with a side shrug.

“I mean it. Get out of my fucking house before I make you do it myself.”

Both Eric and Dan looked at each other and then at Lydia before shrugging with some finality. “Whatever, man,” Dan spoke, turning around to head towards the stairs, Eric following close behind. “Wack party, by the way. You could have done better with the entertainment.”

Lydia’s body shook with rage as she heard Eric whisper, “It was getting good while it lasted –“

“Out!” Other people were glancing in her direction, but she didn’t give a shit. She was pissed at them for what they did to Isaac. All this time, she considered people like Dan and Eric as friends – not _best_ friends per se, since she didn’t hang out with them as regularly as she did with Traci Elliott.

Now she knew just what kind of people they really were, and it disgusted her that those jackasses had the nerve to walk into her home, thinking they could destroy what was supposed to be a fun time.

And had Duncan contributed to Eric and Dan’s pettiness, she would have blamed him, too. The only reason she didn’t was because she knew just how uncomfortable Duncan was of kissing or even considered being romantic or sexual with another guy. Isaac didn’t know what he was doing, either – this may have been his first rodeo, Lydia assumed.

Lydia started to storm throughout the second floor of the house until she got to the bathroom near her parents’ room. Luckily, no one was in there making out or anything, though there were used condoms in the trash, and Lydia’s a hundred percent certain she saw something questionable in the bath tub. _God, there’s gonna be a lot to clean up after this_.

She opened the bathroom window and stuck her head out of it. She could see the front lawn and the other houses on her block from here. Hopefully the height she’s at will help her navigate Isaac in time before he got even further away from the house than she expected.

However, the young Milkovich boy was nowhere to be found. Nowhere near the front porch, nowhere near the front lawn, nowhere near the parked cars – just nowhere.

Lydia wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want to see her again, though deep down, she was devastated about even going there. She was actually liking hanging out with him. They only had one school year left to get to know each other and hopefully be friends. Now, that opportunity is most likely ruined.

Everything was ruined.

* * *

The Gallagher-Milkovich household had been completely empty for most of the evening since Isaac went to the party he told Ian and Mickey about, which left the married couple more time to spend with each other.

And what other way to do that than to have a couple rounds of rough, passionate sex?

That’s how Ian and Mickey ended up being a pile of sweat and excretion underneath their bed sheets close to eight o’clock at night. They were exhausted, but it was the good kind of exhausted. Their boys are older now, and they’re capable of taking care of themselves rather than relying on their fathers to do things for them, unless Isaac needed to be driven somewhere, or if Max needed help paying for his college fees. The older the boys got, the more freedom Ian and Mickey gained to make love to each other like they were teenagers again.

Boy, did they miss their younger years or what?

They had been spooning for the past ten minutes, despite the fact that they were completely hot by now, when Ian started kissing Mickey’s bare skin on his shoulder blade. Little touches like those made Mickey’s skin tickle a bit. He loved those little kisses Ian gave him.

“Another round, man?” Mickey asked, though from the smile on his face, he wasn’t complaining.

“Isaac doesn’t get home for another hour or so,” Ian whispered into Mickey’s neck, placing a wet kiss right there underneath where Mickey’s hair was. “We have the house to ourselves still, Mick.” Ian’s voice lowered a little bit into that groggy yet seductive tone that made his husband weak to the knees.

Mickey’s mouth fell open a bit as he felt Ian softly kiss his neck, both of the redhead’s hands sliding across Mickey’s skin on his lower body. One hand snaked towards Mickey’s front to get a hold of his dick, and the other one slid down to Mickey’s ass, groping one of his ass cheeks as tightly as he could. He knew just how much Mickey loved it when Ian gave his ass some attention.

“House hasn’t been this empty in years,” Ian stated, stroking Mickey’s dick a little bit, and Mickey’s breath started to hitch.

“Fuck.”

“Don’t you love it, Mick? We’re all alone. No kids, no work, no trouble – just us.”

“Jesus, Ian.”

The shorter man turned around some so he could capture his husband’s lips with his own, giving him the sloppiest yet most passionate kiss imaginable. Mickey, too, loved the emptiness of the house, even if he was still worn out from the last three rounds of sex he and Ian shared. He loved his sons as well, but at the same time, he missed having the opportunity to be with Ian and only Ian for more than fifteen minutes. Being without Ian for even a second tore his heart out of his chest. There was no way he’d be able to go through that.

And just when things were getting interesting between the two – aka, Ian getting ready to finger Mickey once again – Mickey’s cell phone started to ring. The peace that once filled the room had been replaced by the shrill screams coming from the iPhone on the night stand.

“Shit,” Mickey groaned, turning back around to set his eyes on the glowing device in the darkness of their bedroom.

“Just call them back later on, Mick,” Ian replied with a shrug. “They’ll understand.”

“They’re calling me at fuck o’clock in the evening, for some odd fuckin’ reason,” Mickey explained, swinging his legs from underneath the bed sheets. “It’s probably something important.”

“More important than me eating you out?” The couple exchanged a look with each other, and at that point, Ian had his tongue out of his mouth, licking his bottom lip and wagging it in Mickey’s direction.

What the hell did Mickey do to deserve this horny bastard?

“Fuck off.” Mickey blushed a bit as he heard Ian giggle behind him. Ian was nasty when he wanted to be, but it was a nasty Mickey has grown to like.

Mickey made a move to turn on the lamp on the night stand and grab the iPhone, and when he got a better look at the screen, he noticed that his son’s name was showing on the screen. Mickey assumed that Isaac was still at the party and that it was close to ending by now, so Mickey most likely had to get dressed and drive all the way to the North Side to pick him up.

 _Fucking kid needs to learn how to drive_.

Mickey pressed the green button on the screen and brought the phone to his right ear. “Hello?” He almost couldn’t focus with Ian trying to slowly kiss at his neck again a couple more times. _Stop_ apparently wasn’t in Ian’s vocabulary, but it’s not like Mickey’s complaining, either, in this case.

“D-Dad?” The sounds of Isaac’s timid, heartbroken voice rang through Mickey’s ears, and that’s when the older Milkovich grew concerned. “Dad, I need your help.”

“Wait, Isaac, what’s going on?” Mickey asked, frowning a bit as he tried to piece all of this together. Ian had stopped kissing Mickey’s neck at that point in favor of listening in on the conversation.

There was somewhat of a silence on the other line, excluding the cars honking somewhere in the distance and Isaac’s soft, quick breaths of oxygen. Isaac was crying, and Mickey wasn’t sure if he was even ready to figure out why.

“I-I…I ran from the house, Dad. I don’t know the way I went to get there, and – and…” Mickey’s heartbeat picked up, and even Ian started to get nervous at the sound of Isaac’s voice, although it was a little faint from where he was sitting. “Dad, please. I need your help. I –“

“Isaac, hold on, man,” Mickey interrupted, standing up off the mattress and looking around for his boxers. “Just – slow down for a minute for me, okay?” Isaac’s breaths picked up a little bit in worry and sadness as his father continued searching for and putting on his clothes. Mickey tried as hard as he could to keep it together for his son, but how would one expect him to keep that up? His son is lost somewhere in the North Side of Chicago at eight o’clock in the evening, and he had no idea how to get home from wherever he was, not to mention the fact that he was crying. Something happened at that party that Isaac wasn’t telling Mickey.

Mickey had on his boxers and his undershirt on as Isaac started to panic again. “D-Dad,” he stammered into the phone, “m-my phone is low on battery, man. I don’t know how much longer I can stay on.”

“Fuck,” Mickey let out. He didn’t want to lose connection with his son over a stupid phone battery, but he knew they needed it in case Isaac wasn’t feeling safe down there. “Okay, just – tell me where you are. I’m coming down there to get you.”

Mickey silently waited for an answer from his son once he retrieved a plain, black T-Shirt from out of the drawers in the bedroom. He kept the phone as close to his ear as possible, hoping to get the details he needed.

“I…I don’t know, I –“ Isaac stammered, causing Mickey to bite down on his bottom lip. “There’s uh…I can see a comic book store right next to me, but I think it’s closed.”

“Do you know what street you’re on?”

“No. I just know I’m near an alley somewhere –“

That piece of information knocked the wind out of Mickey. How Isaac managed to get that far from the party, he had no idea. “What the fuck are you doing near a fucking alley?”

Out of nowhere, he felt two large hands on his shoulders, and when Mickey turned around, he could see Ian mouth to him, “don’t.” Mickey knew what that meant. Isaac’s stuck in a very serious situation, most likely, and Mickey had to be a supportive parent, rather than get upset at the decisions Isaac chose to make.

So Mickey took his advice, although this scenario made it harder to do so.

“Okay, uh…just…” Mickey began into his phone, moving past Ian for a second to retrieve his socks and shoes. “I need you to walk from wherever you are and find a couple of street signs. Once you find them, tell me what they are, and I’ll try to make it down there as fast as I can.”

Mickey then darted out of the bedroom towards the hall closet, digging around inside for something else he thought would come in handy. He almost didn’t register Ian exiting the bedroom seconds after he did, dressed in nothing but his boxers and socks, and taking note of the item Mickey was pulling out of a shoe box.

“A gun, Mickey? What the fuck?”

Mickey hadn’t used a gun in years. Ever since Max and Isaac came into the picture, Ian made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want Mickey using one of those things among the presence of either one of their sons. The concept itself didn’t sit well with the redhead.

Ian, however, grew up in a much more sugarcoated family in comparison to Mickey had. In the Milkovich household, no one gave two shits whether you’re two, twelve, or twenty-two; there will always be a gun somewhere in the house.

Regardless, Ian got nervous every time he thought about Mickey holding a gun around either Max or Isaac. Sure, they were old enough to understand what it is or how it’s used, but accidents can happen. Circumstances can occur. Who knows what could happen to Isaac if Mickey managed to fuck around and aim his gun at someone?

“My damn son is wandering around at eight o’clock at night with a shit ton of strangers, Ian,” Mickey argued, gritting his teeth and speaking with a low voice so Isaac wouldn’t hear him on the other line. He tugged at his waist band and placed the gun inside his pants before covering the rest of it with his black shirt.

“But is gun violence really the answer?”

“If it’s gonna catch the potential bastard that could hurt my son, maybe.”

“And what’s gonna happen if neither one of you make it back home tonight?” That’s the question that stills Mickey in time. It’s a question he knew Ian could ask, but it wasn’t one Mickey was certain of answering. “What if – what if you get placed in a jail cell, and they have you separated from Isaac for the next ten years of your life? What if Isaac actually gets _killed_? I’m not fucking losing the both of you.”

Mickey didn’t want to lose Ian or Isaac, either. He loved his son and his husband, as well as his other son down at Western Illinois, more than anything in the world. He loves his little family so much, and the fact that he would do anything to protect them and keep them all in one place warmed Ian’s heart all over.

But the question of what costs would this gun help Isaac remained. Mickey considered the possibility of there not even being a stranger harassing his teenage son. He considered it. It might be true. Isaac might be fine after all, and Mickey might be overreacting for nothing. Problem is, in Chicago, there’s no telling anymore. For the past twenty years of his life – hell, longer than that – he’s been seeing news segments with headlines related to folks from the South Side getting shot, stabbed, or even strangled to death. Of course, Mickey has no intention on hurting his son. Isaac had dreams. Isaac wanted to be successful, and Mickey wanted to help him be just that. However, he also didn’t want to be that one dad whose face is shown on the small screen with tears all over his face because he didn’t do anything to stop the criminal in the first place.

And yeah, there will be people patting his back and telling him, “There’s nothing you could have done,” if that were to happen, but Mickey couldn’t find it in him to accept that. There were a lot of things he could do to help Isaac, and playing it safe won’t get him anywhere.

“Dad?” His thoughts were interrupted as his son called for him on the other line. That little reminder that Isaac’s still alive and well brought Mickey back to earth and calmed all his senses down. He was still nervous as fuck about him being out there alone at this time of night, but he was alive, and that was all that mattered.

“Yeah, man?”

“I’m…I’m on Madison Street right now,” Isaac explained with a sniffle. “There’s some kind of statue of a head in the distance –“

Michigan Avenue. He’s on the corner of Madison Street and Michigan Avenue. That was all the information Mickey needed.

With a sigh of relief, Mickey began to give him some instructions. “Okay, I want you to find a place around that little area and wait for me on the inside, alright?” When he didn’t receive an answer right away, he added, “You see any shops around there that are still open?”

“There’s a…there’s a Panera Bread that’s open over here across the street from where I am now.”

“Okay, so go inside the Panera Bread, and wait there until I come to get you.”

“Okay.”

There was silence between the two of them. Mickey’s heart was still beating from the sudden shock of finding out that his son had left the party by himself and ended up near some dark alley downtown. Mickey just hoped and prayed that he would get to Isaac in time before someone else does.

“Hey, Isaac?” he spoke into the receiver.

“Yeah?”

Mickey gulped for a moment before he finally let out the words he’s been waiting to say throughout this whole conversation. “I love you, son.”

“I love you, too, Dad.”

“I want you to stay safe down there, and…” Mickey paused to run a hand over his face. “Don’t fuckin’ talk to any strangers or anything, alright?”

“Okay. See you later, Dad.”

“You, too, man.” With that, both Milkoviches hung their cell phones up.

When Mickey looked ahead in Ian’s direction, the redhead still had that look of concern and somewhat disappointment related to the fact that Mickey still had the gun on him. Mickey’s shoulders slumped a bit as he let out a small sigh, his eyes still focused on Ian. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to upset anybody. All he wanted was to be prepared for anything serious. That’s all he _wants_.

Mickey pocketed his iPhone before bringing both of his hands up to Ian’s face, caressing his cheeks with his thumbs a bit. He’s seen that look on Ian one too many times before. He loved that man with all his heart. Mickey hated that damn look.

“I’ll keep it in the car just in case anything happens,” Mickey explained slowly, softly, and sincerely for Ian to understand. “I’m just trying to be ready, Ian. I won’t hurt him or let him get hurt. You hear me?”

Ian was a little hesitant about all this. He knew Mickey long enough to know that the shorter man could handle himself in the presence of guns, bullets, and the wounds they caused. It was Isaac he was worried about. He never touched or used a gun. He never witnessed gun violence in person. He never witnessed anyone with severe bullet wound injuries. He never had any himself.

 _He never had any himself_.

It was a repetitive thought flowing through Ian’s brain, and Ian didn’t even want to think about seeing a bloody Isaac on the sidewalk somewhere. He couldn’t, especially not when their son was still on the North Side somewhere, trying to find some sort of shelter for himself until Mickey came to pick him up.

The redhead felt Mickey’s hand on his chin, lifting his head up so their eyes could meet once again. Mickey closed the space in between them and kissed Ian softly on the lips, wrapping his arms around Ian for good measure. Ian seemed to calm down a little bit, but that image of the gun in Mickey’s pants still made him feel a little uneasy.

He really hoped Mickey can be trustworthy in this situation. There’s no telling what can happen in Chicago anymore.

When Mickey released Ian’s lips, he made his way to the front door, grabbing his keys and his jacket before leaving the house, hopping in the car, and driving out of the neighborhood. Ian watched him from the window, more goosebumps growing on his skin. He really hoped all of this would end well.

* * *

A lot of things happened tonight, and some stuff never went unnoticed in Isaac’s mind.

Today was humiliating. Just when he thought he could actually get along with some people in his graduating class, one moment fucked everything up. Isaac had been blaming himself the moment it happened. He couldn’t help being a little curious and experimental, but at the same time, he could go back outside, find a rock, and crack his own skull with it.

 _Stupid fucking me_.

Isaac pretty much ran out of tears by now, but he wanted to cry again. He wanted to hide underneath the blankets and never see the sun again. People like Eric and Dan were bound to tell the rest of the school about Isaac kissing Duncan Phillips on the lips and actually liking it. Isaac doesn’t even think he’ll make it out of high school alive.

About half an hour after he and Isaac called each other, Mickey finally arrived on Michigan Avenue, taking note of the still-open Panera Bread to his left. From a distance, he could see Isaac sitting by the window at a table by himself. One of his hands supported the weight coming from his head, and the other one was down near his dying phone in front of him.

 _Fuck_ , Mickey thought to himself. He looked just as bad as he sounded over the phone.

Mickey found a parking space for his car before walking towards the Panera Bread entrance. The bell rang over his head as he stepped inside. When the sound reached Isaac’s ears, the teenage Milkovich turned his head suddenly and was met with the eyes of his own father.

And he couldn’t be anymore grateful.

They met each other halfway, Mickey wrapping his arms around his son’s frame, and Isaac grabbing a fist full of Mickey’s jacket as he took in the warmth that was radiating from his dad’s body. He felt so much safer now than he was before, and that alone prompted a tremble of the boy’s chin against Mickey’s shoulder. Mickey could hear the uneasy breaths coming from his son’s mouth, and he knew that he was ready to cry again.

So he let him. Whatever Isaac needed to let out, Mickey just let him. It’s always been like that. When Isaac was a baby, and he woke up after having a life-changing nightmare about demons taking over his body, Mickey held him as close as he could, rubbing his back every time a loud cry would leave the little infant’s mouth. When the class bully in elementary school picked on Isaac for having two dads and no mother in the picture, Mickey kept Isaac close and assured him that he and Ian loved him just as much as a mother and father would.

Mickey did all these things because he knew how much he cared for Isaac. Isaac is his world. Seventeen years ago, he contributed to making a little life that would eventually be his son, and Mickey would do anything to make that little life as satisfied as possible, even if it meant driving all the way to the North Side of Chicago to pick up his lost son and to bring him back home, safe and sound.

Isaac was still crying in Mickey’s arms, no matter how tight or loose Mickey was holding him, and that made him wonder what all happened today that brought on so many tears. He had to know something so he could get to the bottom of this.

“Bud,” Mickey whispered in his son’s ear, rubbing a small circle on his upper back, “let’s sit down for a minute, yeah?” Isaac nodded slowly and released his hold from around his father, sitting back down at the window seat he was originally in. Mickey slid into the booth right next to him, his eyes focused on how red Isaac’s face and eyes actually worse.

This was worse than the actual phone call.

Isaac didn’t say anything yet. His eyes were focused on the phone sitting on the table in front of him. He wasn’t doing anything with it, but he knew that he was concentrating on something Mickey couldn’t recognize right away. Whatever it was continued to eat him up, because more tears fell out of Isaac’s eyes as more notifications came up on his screen.

Mickey had been silent for too long now. He had to know what was up with his son. “You wanna tell me what happened? Why did you leave the party?”

Isaac was still quiet, save for the sniffles that came from his nostrils and his uneasy breaths. Mickey tried squinting at Isaac’s phone screen, but he couldn’t see much without invading Isaac’s personal space.

“Come on, man. We need to talk about this.” Still no answer.

The younger Milkovich rubbed his forehead with his hand, not knowing what else he wanted to do with himself. He was still a little embarrassed to even bring it up with anyone else. Somehow, the word about Isaac and Duncan spread within the past hour over social media – well, more so about Isaac than Duncan; of course, those people back there had to protect Duncan’s integrity somehow – and Isaac was too emotionally triggered to respond to any of them. The whole school thinks he’s some kind of joke now, and there’s nothing Isaac could do or say to make everyone change their minds.

Mickey craned his head a bit to get a better look at Isaac’s face. “Look, man, I’m trying to be helpful and supportive and shit here,” he tried again. “You’re the one who called me at eight o’clock at night in the middle of downtown Chicago –“

“They’re making fun of me.” His voice was low and depressing, but the words were still clear as rain.

“Who?” Mickey asked, his defensive side starting to kick in. “I want to know who, Isaac. Who’s making fun of you?”

Isaac’s lips trembled at the memory of that stupid Spin the Bottle game from earlier. He clearly remembered Duncan shoving him away in disgust, followed by people like Eric and Dan using homophobic slurs against him. And then practically everyone in the room joined in on the laughter, teasing him until he was well out of the house.

Now he knew what it was like to be in those movies where the dream made its appearance multiple times. This time around was worse than the movies, though.

“Everyone,” Isaac sobbed, folding his hands on the table in an attempt to keep himself together. His voice was a little louder and a little higher, and the sound shook Mickey’s entire world. “Everyone from that stupid fucking party is making fun of me. Everybody hates me. I don’t wanna see them ever again.”

Mickey hadn’t heard his son cry this much since the day he came home from elementary school with bruises all over his arms and face. That seventeen-year-old boy sitting next to him stripped away so many layers in this moment, and Mickey swore he could see his ten-year-old self all over again. Mickey wanted to cry with him, but he knew that Isaac was the one in true pain.

Isaac’s body continued to shake as he sobbed in his little space by the front window, and Mickey then made a move to scoot a little closer to him and wrap his protective arms around his son. Mickey shut his eyes as he heard Isaac’s cries get muffled in his jacket. He got a firm grip on the little boy’s back and arms as he hugged him close. His lips were in his jet black hair, kissing the top of his head to let Isaac know that he was there for him, no matter what he was going through.

Growing up, Mickey didn’t give two shits about whether people liked him or not. He’s a Milkovich by blood, so people were most likely to hate him than like him, if not fear him. And when people expressed their hatred for him, oftentimes, it didn’t affect him. Sure, he could beat the shit out of someone who referred to him as a dirt bag or whatever, but at the end of the day, he had better things to focus on.

However, he did give two shits as to whether or not the people he loved got hurt, whether it be Mandy, Ian, Isaac, or Max. Or anyone beyond his closest family members. That’s what’s biting at Mickey right now: the fact that some kid had the audacity to hurt his teenage son like it didn’t mean anything to anyone.

It did. It meant something to someone. It meant a lot to Isaac, to Mickey, to Ian, to his older brother – it means a lot to the people in Isaac’s life, not just Isaac himself.

Mickey started to rock a little bit in an attempt to soothe the crying boy in his arms. He didn’t receive this kind of treatment growing up, especially not from Terry Milkovich. All Mickey would get is some slap across the face and the command to _man up_ when it came to his problems. There were times in life where you had to face your problems head on rather than pushing them away. Ian taught him that as the couple grew up, and this also applied to Isaac. If Mickey wanted any kind of answer from his son, he needed to allow him to let his emotions out.

“Isaac,” Mickey spoke timidly, rubbing the teen’s back in an attempt to receive his attention while trying to hold himself together. “Are you listening to me, man?” Isaac nodded into Mickey’s shoulder. “I want you to go slow, alright?” He rubbed the back of Isaac’s head some more as a couple of sobs left the little boy’s mouth. “Listen to me, Isaac. Okay?” Isaac made an attempt to slow his breaths down some, but he was completely shaken at this point.

“Just…just take your time,” Mickey explained again, swallowing the lump down in his throat as much as he could. He held onto his son a little tighter, because Lord knows if he were to loosen his grip or even let him go, Mickey wouldn’t know what to do with his own hands without acting irrational about the situation. “Go at your own pace. Do whatever you have to do, but just…tell me from beginning to end what all went down today, okay?”

Isaac was about to start on the story, but Mickey stopped him in favor of whispering to him, “Just take a minute, man. Alright?” Mickey knew he wasn’t ready judging by the uneven breaths that came out of his mouth. He knew his son better than anyone, and he knew that he liked to go at his own speed with a lot of things. Rushing him never helped him work anything out, Mickey learned over the years, so he decided to let the young boy calm himself down for the next few minutes.

He couldn’t see his phone screen since he was hugging his father and facing a completely different direction, but he knew that his phone was still buzzing with notifications from people over social media, as well as his contacts, about the unfortunate series of events from earlier that night. Isaac knew just how ruthless some of his classmates could be. Some of them managed to say the most vile things he thought he would never hear in his childhood – “there’s no room for AIDS monkeys like you at our school, ass wipe” and “take your ass back to conversion therapy, Milkovich” were a couple of the heart-wrenching ones he came across.

As unhealthy as he knew it was, he allowed some of those comments to stick inside him – not because they were true, but because he finally got to see his classmates for who they really are. That’s something Isaac will never forgive them for.

At one point, an employee had stopped by at their table and asked Mickey if things were okay over there, and Mickey nodded in response. He didn’t have the energy to speak, not when his youngest kid is in emotional pain right now and having trouble seeking support. The employee had left Mickey and Isaac alone, and once she left, Mickey continued to soothe the teen’s back.

Isaac felt exhausted, even as he was leaning against Mickey’s shoulder and letting the tears dry on his face. He was thankful for having Mickey as a father. Sure, Mickey had a different flavor of fatherhood compared to Ian, but that didn’t make him any better or worse. Isaac actually liked Mickey for who he is – defensive, protective, hilarious, and supportive. Had Isaac been born with a different dad, and Isaac wouldn’t know how he would take it.

That’s the thing about this sexuality thing that was getting to Isaac. Mickey and Ian are gay and in a relationship with each other. They already know what it’s like to be different from straight folks people see literally everywhere. Isaac wasn’t sure why he was so nervous about telling Mickey everything that happened, but he was.

But Isaac also knew that Mickey’s willing to hear his son out and to help him out whenever he can. He’s proven that all throughout Isaac’s life. Not just with Isaac, but he’s also done the same with Ian and Max as well.

They were all Mickey’s family. Mickey loves his family.

That was all the motivation Isaac needed to finally gather some composure to start speaking again.

Mickey had placed a long kiss on the top of his son’s head when he heard an almost audible sound escape Isaac’s lips. He glanced down at him and watched as Isaac cleared his throat a bit and released himself from his father’s hold. Isaac then leaned his head onto Mickey’s right shoulder, his eyes focused on nothing but the salt and pepper shakers on the table when he began to speak again.

“I…I didn’t have anyone I wanted…to, uh…” Isaac started, wiping a couple of tears around his nose, “to hang out with at first, so I just grabbed a punch and whatever they had at the table.” His voice was still a little shaky from all the crying he had done, but he still tried his best to get every word out. “And then Lydia – she, uh…she invited me up to her room with her friends and stuff…”

“Lydia?”

“Hostess.” Mickey nodded. Isaac sniffled a bit and then continued. “I – I didn’t know what to expect. She’s one of the popular girls in the school, and I didn’t know what she wanted to do with me –“

Mickey snickered a bit at that. “Must be some charm you’re not aware of, man.” Isaac smiled. His dad always saw the good in him.

And then his smile faded again as he continued the story, flashes of memories coming back and barely giving Isaac any time to relax. “We were all sitting in a circle in Lydia’s bedroom,” he continued, “and…s-she wanted to play Spin the Bottle, you know?” Mickey nodded, his face frowning in concentration. “She…she spun first, and, uh…” Isaac scratched the back of his head nervously. “She…kissed me.”

Mickey turned his head around, surprised and genuinely happy from the news he received from his son. “Your first kiss?”

“Yeah,” Isaac replied, blushing for a minute before getting a little bit silent again. His first official kiss had been with Lydia Sanders, but everything after that turned into literal shit. Literally. He didn’t even want to think about the look on Duncan’s face when Isaac kissed him for the first time.

Isaac’s first official kiss with a _guy_ was the worst first he’s ever experienced.

“And, uh…” Isaac sniffled again. “Then the game kept on going, and…this guy was sitting next to me, and he…” He gulped. “He spun the bottle on his turn and…uh…” He grabbed a fistful of his navy blue hoodie sleeve, bracing himself for any kind of reaction from his father. “It landed on me.” There was a sudden silence between the two of them, for Mickey hadn’t made a move to say anything.

Isaac scoffed a bit at the image of Duncan’s profile whenever he looked in some opposite direction in the circle. Isaac didn’t even care if he was mad at him or not; he still thought the guy was good-looking as hell. That was one thing he would never take back, no matter how embarrassing this night was.

“He…he just gave off some type of vibe when I saw him for the first time,” Isaac continued, having no idea on where this conversation was going anymore. He possessed a lot of feelings, and he had to tell somebody about them before they consumed him for the rest of the summer. “I don’t know what it was, but…whatever it is…fuck – I just…”

Mickey inched his eyebrow in confusion. “Did you…?”

Isaac took a deep breath in, still shaking a bit in anger, humiliation, disappointment, and sadness. He was feeling everything tonight, but he really didn’t want to, at the same time. “I liked him, Dad. I liked him. I liked the way he looked, the way he seemed to visibly relax every time someone around the circle told a joke or whatever the fuck, t-t-the way he spoke and what it did to me, the way he smiled –“

He stopped. He balled up both of his hands and held them up to his chin, letting his chin balance on them as he leaned forward and felt more tears well up in his eyes. He let all of that out faster than he intended to. A part of him feels somewhat relieved that Mickey now knows the real problem behind all of this, but that didn’t mean the demons weren’t eating at Isaac anymore, because they were.

Isaac still cried as he added, “I really liked him, Dad. I liked him, and he didn’t like me back. Not after what I did.”

Mickey gulped at the sight of his son’s form. He tried so hard to hold himself together ever since he made that phone call to home earlier. It all made perfect sense. Isaac had feelings for guys. Mickey wasn’t sure if he still possessed feelings towards girls, too, though that wasn’t the problem he was having right now.

Isaac likes boys. He likes boys, and his school suddenly believed something was wrong with him after he kissed one. That made Mickey’s blood boil.

“Did you…” Mickey started, but then choosing to wipe his face with his hand. “What happened…after…?”

Isaac shook his head, his lips trembling some more as he traced back to the moment before he left the house. Mickey wanted him to recall the moment he wanted to forget about the most. Looking back at that memory, Isaac wished he just stayed home in favor of going to the party. He’s sure Lydia meant well when she invited him, but she really did need some new friends.

Mickey bit his lip at his son, watching him cry and crumble some more in despair. He didn’t even need for him to explain the rest of the story to him anymore. Isaac didn’t deserve more pressure being placed on him.

The older Milkovich brought his arm back around his son, holding him tightly as he leaned on his head a little bit. The vibrations from Isaac’s smaller body felt so powerful. Isaac was at his most vulnerable. Mickey never wanted that for him. Not once. Not now. Not ever.

Mickey spent the next few seconds holding Isaac in his arms, occasionally rubbing his bicep and kissing his hair as the younger Milkovich sobbed below him. After a moment, though, Mickey began to speak again. “Isaac…” He could hear how weak his own voice sounded as he croaked his son’s name. “Son, can you hear me?” At Isaac’s nod, Mickey continued. “I’m so sorry, man. Really. I wish this didn’t fucking happen to you.”

And that’s when the flashbacks started to kick in – not in Isaac’s head this time, but Mickey’s.

There were flashbacks of days when he and Ian would hang out in one of the abandoned buildings in the South Side of Chicago. There were flashbacks of days when Mickey watched Ian from afar, wondering what the redhead was thinking or what he was up to. There were flashbacks of days when Mickey invited Ian over his house whenever the rest of his family were gone for the day. There were flashbacks of days when Mickey would look at Ian like he’s the best, most important thing in the world.

Some of those moments in Mickey’s life were the best ones, before he even knew he and Ian would be together for the rest of their lives. But before they could even get to that point, they, of course, had bad memories. The most prominent one in Mickey’s head right now was the day Terry Milkovich came home to find his son getting fucked by a Gallagher.

That was the day that changed everything.

“We don’t have it easy out here, Isaac,” Mickey stated as he rubbed Isaac’s arm some more, leaning his cheek against his son’s head. “There’s always gonna be some fucking asshole who’s gonna point out something wrong with us, like we’re some epidemic that needs to be gotten rid of at an instant.” Isaac whimpered. Mickey couldn’t take it when his son cried. “We’re not an epidemic. We’re not aliens, some freaks of nature or some shit like that. We’re human just like anybody else.”

Mickey tightened his hold around his son briefly before he continued. “I didn’t grow up in the most accepting family, you know? I didn’t have the father you had growing up. My father was so much worse. You could even classify him as the devil, if you wanted to.”

Isaac sniffled a bit more before he craned his head up a bit and asked, “w-what did he do?”

Mickey fumed at the memories that came about. The day he had gotten pistol-whipped and fucked by another woman in front of Ian was not only embarrassing, but it was also damaging. Mickey’s level of humiliation in terms of his sexuality was more intense than the one Isaac had, but both incidents had very terrible outcomes nonetheless.

“Ian and I have been…together for a long time – way before either you or Max were born. Problem is, I was in the closet back then, and I didn’t want to risk getting killed or whatever for being gay. It’s the South Side, Isaac, and people in the South Side don’t take gay people that well. You know what I mean?” Isaac nodded again, adjusting himself into a more comfortable position.

Mickey chuckled at the image of a much-younger Ian Gallagher. He had way more freckles than he did now, and he was still in the process of going through puberty and everything, but Mickey loved that fucking ginger-haired boy. And he still loves that fucking ginger-haired boy to this day. He had gotten so lucky over the years, and he still doesn’t understand how or why.

“Your dad,” Mickey continued, “he was so fucking persistent just to get something on my end. Knowing Ian, though, I understand. He’s grown up in a big ass family and two parents who left their priorities very often.” Mickey shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess he needed someone outside of his family to get away from all that stuff.” He paused. “But he still had feelings for me, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t have feelings for him all those years ago.”

When Mickey looked down, he spotted his son looking up at him with blotchy, red eyes and a tear-soaked face. In a disturbing way, Isaac reminded him so much of the day Ian left Chicago for the army after Mickey got into a forced marriage with a woman following Terry’s discovery of Ian and Mickey’s relationship. Mickey didn’t want Ian to leave, and he didn’t want Ian thinking that Mickey wanted to end what they had because of his dad.

But the circumstances were quite dire at the time. Hell, Mickey might not even be alive today, if he went against Terry’s wishes.

Mickey reached his hand up to smooth out Isaac’s hair, letting the soft texture tickle the palm of his hand as he continued his story. “His siblings got separated by DCFS at one point, but that didn’t stop him from coming to work at the corner store we used to work at as kids. I invited him over to my house that night, and we had a good time, I guess.” He paused, shaking his head as his eyes directed to any target in front of him. “But the next day was worse.”

“How so?”

Just thinking about that day had Mickey shaking a little bit. Every time he thought about it, he wished he had just let Ian go to work that morning and take care of whatever business he had to deal with. Maybe then, Ian wouldn’t have gotten punched in the face and forced to watch Mickey fuck a woman on the Milkoviches’ living room couch.

“We, um…” Mickey started, scratching his nose with his index finger out of nervousness. “Ian had to go to work the next morning, but…you know, I wasn’t ready for him to go back to the home he and his older brother was placed in. I never really told him that, but I think he got the hint, at least.” Isaac nodded slowly, gulping the lump in his throat that seemed to get a little smaller with time.

As Isaac’s lump shrank, Mickey’s lump grew. It was a very terrible memory he didn’t want to experience ever again. At the same time, that memory of getting whipped by his father and raped in front of him and Ian will be stuck with him for the rest of his life, and there’s nothing Mickey could do to change that.

“We were…you know, doing it…on the couch before he had to leave,” Mickey continued, “and then, uh…”

Isaac gripped onto his own hoodie sleeve in deep concern for his father. “And what?”

Mickey sighed. He always hated re-telling this story to people who were unaware of what happened. The only thing keeping him from lashing out at anyone right now was the fact that he was telling it to his son. Isaac’s the one dealing with sexuality issues right now, and hearing this story could potentially help inspire him through his journey.

Plus, as if it wasn’t obvious before, Mickey loves Isaac. He loves him with all his heart, and that will never change. He would do anything to love and protect Isaac for the rest of his life.

“And my dad came home.” Once it was out there, there was no going back. Mickey would have to deal with whatever happens later when it comes. “He…he wasn’t very happy with…” Mickey shook his head. “Shit, that’s a fucking understatement. He was anything but happy; he was fuckin’ pissed.”

Mickey could hear his own voice waver a little, and that’s how he knew this conversation would become darker than it already is. “He hit Ian. He punched him in the face, tried giving him as many bruises as he could provide. I didn’t want Ian getting hurt because of what I initiated, you know?” Isaac nodded, feeling himself get a little smaller at the sound of Mickey’s voice. Mickey sniffled a bit and added, “I tried pulling Dad away, but uh…fuck – he was so damn strong. He punched me several times, and every time, I tried to get him off me, but –“

Isaac could feel his throat tighten up once again. He watched as Mickey shut his eyes, using his left hand to cover his mouth to refrain from letting out any whimpers out. Mickey’s done a great job showing other people his vulnerability growing up, especially when it came to Ian, but he also would rather not show too much weakness, especially in a public place where other people could be watching.

He did understand, though, that no one else in this place other than Isaac mattered. Mickey and Isaac were the only ones that mattered to them right now. Mickey had to remember that.

Isaac returned the favors Mickey gave him tonight by adjusting his body once again so he could better wrap his smaller arms around his father’s body. His chin rested on Mickey’s shoulder as he felt his father embrace him back. Now the tables seemed to have made a 180-degree turn. Mickey was the one visibly shaking, and Isaac was the one trying to hold his father together.

Who knew they could be this much alike?

The two remained like that for the next five or ten minutes before Isaac took a chance and looked up at his now teary-eyed father above him. The words that left Isaac’s mouth then left Mickey almost speechless. “You don’t have to tell me the rest if you don’t want to.”

Mickey sighed. Isaac’s becoming a mature young man. Mickey couldn’t ask for anything more than that.

“Thanks, son,” he croaked, squeezing the teen in his arms a little more before they let go of each other. There was another period of silence before Mickey cleared his throat again, turning back in Isaac’s direction.

“I worry about you every day of my life, Isaac. You know that, right?” Isaac nodded. “I want the fucking best for you. I’ve wanted that since you were born.” Mickey huffed. “Fuck, when you were born, I thought I would drop you or some shit and give you a concussion, or even worse. You just…you’re my son. You’re my fucking son, and I wanted to do right by you at all times and shit, you know?” Isaac nodded again. “I didn’t want to be my father; I wanted that engraved on my goddamn tombstone. I even told Ian that whenever he noticed how insecure I was feeling towards you and Max. I just…I couldn’t fucking have that, man. I _can’t_ have that.”

All this time, whenever Isaac thought about the family reunions, Christmas and birthday parties, and barbecues growing up, he wondered why he never got the opportunity to meet his biological grandfather. He met Frank on a couple of occasions, despite the fact that Ian wasn’t biologically his son, but he never got to meet Mickey’s dad. He’s heard a couple of stories about what the man was like, but Isaac didn’t think he was that bad at first.

Now, Isaac hated Terry Milkovich with all his heart. He wished he was never related to him, but he knew he couldn’t make that happen, even if he could. And despite Mickey’s superstitions and whatnot, to Isaac, he was twelve times better than Terry, if not more. That was a fact in Isaac’s book.

“I may have not been the most accepting of my own sexuality back when I was in the closet and shit,” Mickey continued, rubbing Isaac’s right shoulder soothingly, “but as I got older, and after I officially came out, a lot of things changed. Dad was long out of the picture, and Ian and I got to officially be together like the world intended.” Mickey nodded slowly in assurance. “I got to smile more, laugh with Ian more, kiss him more…” He gulped silently. “I was so fucking happy after all of that, but that didn’t mean our story was or became any less complex.”

Isaac nodded, though through the years he was alive for, he thought Ian and Mickey’s relationship looked so simplistic. So easy. They looked so happy together, and they were a really great team. Isaac couldn’t imagine what it was like for the two of them back in the day when he didn’t even exist yet.

“I don’t want you to live the same way I did, son,” Mickey stated after a moment of silence. “I – I don’t want you having to walk through the world with a fuckin’ chain on your wrists, holding yourself back just because of something someone else said to you.” Mickey shrugged. “I don’t give a shit whether you like boys or girls. You’re my fucking son. I just want you to be happy.”

Isaac nodded once again, but only for a moment before Mickey lifted his chin up a bit, giving the young boy a sincere look. “But I also want you to be careful, too, Isaac. You hear me?” Isaac nodded. “There are still a lot of people in this world who aren’t as accepting as you want them to be. We can’t live in a perfect world like that, one where there aren’t any people as judgmental and ignorant as my dad or your classmates. They want us to hide in the shadows and all that shit. That’s where we’ve been for years, and no matter how proud of ourselves we can be, people out there will just shit all over our happiness.”

Mickey continued to rub his son’s arm as his bright, blue eyes fell at the cold, hard truth his father was telling him. It was sad that Mickey even had to say that, but it was the truth. In the South Side and beyond resided some homophobic jackasses who had nothing better to do than to shame guys who loved other guys. Mickey didn’t want Isaac to get caught up in all of that mess, especially not after what Mickey himself experienced.

“It’s okay for you to…have an attraction towards another guy,” Mickey continued. “I’m not telling you to stop having those, because that’s normal and everything. I just don’t want you diving into the deep end as a response to it. You get what I mean?” Isaac nodded, his thoughts going back to the moment he and Duncan kissed. He knew exactly what Mickey was talking about. “There’s no telling what the other person’s thinking about in terms of same-sex kissing and stuff, and…they might not like it, depending on who it is, you know?”

“Yeah,” Isaac replied, followed by a couple of nods. “Yeah, Dad. I get it.”

"And...hey, if you ever wanna get...involved in a relationship with another guy, just let me know. If not me, then Ian. Maybe one of us could help you figure out where to look for someone your age who's interested in guys like you are and all that shit, you know?"

There was another silence before the teenager turned his head in Mickey’s direction, his heart beating against his rib cage. “Thanks for not getting mad at me, Dad.”

Mickey can’t get mad at that little boy. He can’t. He’s still learning the ways of life here. Was that something Mickey could really get mad at him for?

“The fuck you on, man? I can’t get mad at you.”

Isaac smiled simply. He couldn’t be anymore thankful for hearing that.

The two Milkoviches were quiet at their table for a few minutes, mentally and emotionally collecting themselves and wiping the tears off their face. This was a very emotional night for the both of them. They were both tired and angry. Tired and angry from having to think about the homophobic people in their lives and what they’ve done to them.

Why couldn’t more good things happen to them, for once in their lives?

After a while, Mickey started to speak. “So…you’re officially gay, too, huh?”

Isaac bit down on his bottom lip. He wasn’t sure if _gay_ or _homosexual_ was the right term to describe himself. He still had an attraction towards girls – Lydia Sanders, even – so maybe _gay_ or _homosexual_ wasn’t the correct term. “I…don’t think so.” Mickey turned towards his son, frowning curiously at him. “I – I know I’m not as straight as I thought I was, but…I don’t think I’m a hundred percent gay, either.”

Mickey nodded understandably, scratching underneath his nose and ridding his face of more tears that had fallen previously. “So…bisexual then?”

Isaac shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Do you have a preference?” Isaac turned his head in Mickey’s direction, looking as confused as ever before Mickey clarified his question. “You know, boys over girls? Girls over boys?”

It was then that Isaac shrugged once more. “I don’t think so. It doesn’t matter to me, really. I just know that Lydia and Duncan had really soft lips."

Mickey started to snicker, which turned into a small laugh, and Isaac joined in on the laughter. They both needed a little laugh for the night, especially after the amount of tears that have been shed. Once the laughter died down a bit, Mickey wiped his hand over his mouth and stated, “Pansexual might be the better word then, if not bisexual.”

“Pan…what?”

Mickey snickered again, but just for a second, because his son was still confused as to what he was talking about. “That was my reaction when Ian basically told me about it – maybe a little over-exaggerated, but that’s beside the point.” It was Isaac’s turn to let out a little snicker. “He told me of the time his brother Lip ended up dating a girl who turned out to be pansexual. It basically means that you’re attracted to multiple sexes and shit like that.”

“There are more than two sexes?”

“You’d be fuckin’ surprised, man. I didn’t know this shit, either, until your old man had to get a class lesson from your other dad on what he learned in college.”

Isaac nodded, but after a couple of seconds, he looked back up at Mickey and said, “I don’t know if I’m attracted to more than two sexes, though.”

“Of course not; you only just learned what this shit was three seconds ago.” Oh yeah. Right. “Though you would think they’d teach you that shit in school by now.”

“I mean, they taught us a little bit about intersex and stuff like that, but that was just for animals.”

Mickey shook his head in disbelief yet wonder at the same time. “They got you learning a bunch of shit in school, I see.” They both nodded a little slowly, and then Mickey turned his head in Isaac’s direction. “That’s good, man.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Mickey nodded, bringing his hand up to the back of Isaac’s head to scratch his scalp a little bit. “But yeah, son, about the pan thing…” Isaac looked to Mickey for a moment, contemplating what he would say next before he actually said it. “It might take you a little while longer to experiment and shit before you’re a hundred percent sure what you wanna label yourself as, you know?” Isaac nodded. “At least you know a little bit of what you want, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good.”

They were silent for another ten seconds or so before Mickey’s eyes directed themselves towards Isaac’s cell phone on the surface of the table. His phone was on twenty-six percent – he wasn’t lying when he said his phone was on low battery – and still had upcoming notifications coming up on the lock screen. How long that’s been happening today, Mickey wasn’t sure. He also doesn’t know if he’s ready to face even one of those comments from Isaac’s classmates or not.

Mickey reached over and grabbed Isaac’s phone off the table before turning to his son and asking him, “what’s your phone password, man?”

“Dad –“

“You don’t have to see these if you don’t want to, okay?” Mickey clarified, “but clearly, a bunch of little shits are talking about _my_ son, and when my son is hurt, then it automatically becomes my problem, too. You hear?”

There was no point in arguing with Mickey. He always won when he got into his defensive mode. Sometimes, not even Ian could win over him, especially when Mickey was more than willing to make sacrifices for him, Max and Isaac, and that said a lot.

Finally, Isaac gave in and unlocked his phone, trying to ignore the notifications that were already on the screen before handing the phone back to Mickey. The older Milkovich found himself shaking his own head and frowning in anger. Sixteen notifications were from Isaac’s messaging app. Thirty-two were from the Facebook app. About seventy-five were from Twitter –

Scratch that. Seventy-six.

There was a lot of cleaning up to do.

Isaac sat a little uncomfortably next to Mickey as his father scrolled through Isaac’s phone, taking away some of the red notification bubbles on the small screen. He skimmed through a few text messages sent to him by people Isaac used to work with in school projects and whatnot. The comments were completely disgusting and disappointing. Isaac walked among so many monsters at that school.

“I wanna get rid of some of these, Isaac,” Mickey stated after a silent minute. “Last chance for any objections, alright?”

Isaac just shrugged in response. “Doesn’t matter. They don’t give a shit about me anyway.” Mickey sighed a bit at that reply. He didn’t want his son to lose friends at school because of all of this, but he did know that this was a healthier decision to make than for Isaac to keep looking at these homophobic messages and allowing them to consume him. “Just get rid of them, Dad.”

And that’s what Mickey did, but not before taking screenshots of some of the messages and saving some students’ numbers onto his own phone. Mickey was never the type of person to let things go like that, especially when either Ian or one of his boys were involved. Sometime tomorrow, he planned to give these classmates’ parents a piece of his own damn mind.

Once the notifications from Isaac’s messaging app were cleared out, Mickey went through Isaac’s Facebook. Some of the status updates he saw on there were worse than what he saw in Isaac’s messaging app, and that had Mickey both furious and concerned.

“ _Fuck_.”

“What? What happened?”

Mickey gulped at the vulgarity of some of these messages. These kids called Isaac disgusting names like a dick-taking cunt or Last Fag Standing, and Mickey wanted nothing more than to throw a damn fit as he sat here with his son.

But they were still in a downtown Panera Bread, though, and there was no room for police confrontation, not with all of the problems that have surfaced today.

“Nothing, man,” Mickey answered, getting started on reporting the first five or six hate messages on the feed he could find. Some of these statuses had comments added to them, but Mickey wasn’t in the mood to read comments on a post that humiliated his son and used homophobic slurs against him.

Mickey was just about to report the next one but stopped when he realized that this message wasn’t a hate message. It was a lengthy speech from the hostess herself, Lydia Sanders.

* * *

_Isaac, I really need you to read this message, okay? Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing right now – just please take the time to read this. I don’t want you going off doing something stupid just because of what some of my so-called “friends” and the rest of the school is saying._

_I never, by any means, wanted this party to go the way it did. I didn’t want this to happen, but of course, people like Eric and Dan are too uncivilized to understand that. I invited you to this party for a reason. I wanted you to join us for the game for a reason. None of us really got a chance to know you that well, and I have this little bucket list of things I wanted to do before I graduate. Near the top of the list was to get to know some classmates I don’t talk to that often, and one of them is you._

_And you know what? I think you’re a really great, kind person, Isaac. And I don’t care what names people call you just to put you down. You’re not any of those bad things, alright? You’re a good person stuck with the wrong group of people at the wrong time. I’ll even admit that it was my fault in all of this, too. I should have stopped you from leaving. Maybe we could have called your parents from my house, and we could have settled this in a better way. But I let you go. I let you go to wherever you are now, and it’s all my fault._

_I’m really scared for you, Isaac. Really, I am. I don’t know if you’re still alive to read this message or anything, but I really hope you are. The last thing I want is for you to kill yourself or anything remotely drastic because of what happened. It gives me the chills knowing this might be on my conscience, and I can’t even imagine how devastated your parents and older brother would be, if you did. Your life is more valuable than some dumb shit Eric said to you in your face. I just want you to know that._

_If you’re still out there, please message me after you read this. I really need to know if you’re okay or not, but I mostly want you to be okay. You never deserved this from the start. I just wanted you to know_.

* * *

Mickey almost choked up after reading her message. He never even considered the possibility of Isaac killing himself over what happened last night. Now Mickey was even more relieved that Isaac called him when he did, or else Isaac would be left down here in downtown Chicago with nothing but a dying phone and his head hanging low on his shoulders.

Lydia Sanders was living proof that there were people in this world who still cared for others. Mickey never met the girl before, but he knew he wanted to know more than ever after reading this message. He wasn’t sure whether or not Isaac read the message yet. If he didn’t, though, he needed to.

“Lydia Sanders, right?” Mickey asked, feeling his throat close up some and the pitch of his voice rise a little bit as he spoke.

Isaac turned his head, frowning in confusion for a second before he answered, “yeah.”

Mickey eventually started to nod slowly in Isaac’s direction. He could feel some more tears in his eyes form at the realization that his son could have possessed some suicidal thoughts while wandering around downtown Chicago by himself this late at night. He didn’t know for sure if he had any or not, but he was so thankful Isaac was still here with him and that he managed to call Mickey when he did. He was also thankful for Lydia being in Isaac’s life, regardless of how close they were to each other. She just might be the person Isaac needed in his life.

“Very sweet girl.”

At this point, Mickey’s voice was a little softer. He could feel his hand on his lap shaking a bit. Isaac himself started to get worried as to what Mickey actually saw. “What did Lydia say?”

Mickey turned back towards Isaac’s phone screen one more time before handing his son his phone back, making sure he only got to read Lydia’s message. Isaac stared down at his screen in concentration, and Mickey looked on with him to make sure he wasn’t scrolling towards the comment section. Who knows whether or not one of Lydia’s so-called “friends” made a dirty response towards her message?

Once he was done, Isaac’s hand with the phone in it fell to his lap as he stared straight ahead, letting the words register in his brain. Lydia thought he was going to kill himself. If Isaac were being completely honest, he considered it moments after leaving, which prompted him to take a few buses around the city just to find a more private place to do it.

However, he also knew that it wasn’t something neither his parents nor Max wanted.

So he decided against it, and that’s what got him to call Mickey. He needed his father right by his side. He needed someone to understand how badly he was hurting. He needed a hug, a kiss on the head, a good cry with someone he knew and sympathized with him – he needed all of that. Max wasn’t in Chicago for that, and calling his older brother wouldn’t have the same effect.

Besides, Mickey’s his father. Isaac would have loved for Ian to come, too, but this was one of those things he just needed Mickey for.

And Isaac had him. He had him, and he couldn’t be anymore thankful.

Mickey realized Isaac was spacing out a bit – maybe even getting a little emotional from reading the message – so he reached over and wrapped his arm around his son again, giving him the warmest and tightest of hugs, followed by a kiss in his hair and on his temple. Isaac could feel some tears come out of his eyes, even when he thought he was all cried out for the evening.

“Ay,” Mickey whispered, and Isaac turned his head until he was facing his father. “I think it’s time for us to go, don’t you think?”

That sounded like a perfect idea. Isaac was too tired to think about this situation any further. He'll message Lydia later on, but right now, he was completely exhausted. All he wanted right now was to fall asleep under his bed sheets and on his pillow, taking a break from reality to expose himself to his sweet dreams.

Assuming he would get any tonight anyway.

“I’m gonna go buy us something really quick,” Mickey suggested, pulling his wallet out of his jacket pocket. “We could snack on something when he get home. Maybe get a doggie bag for Ian, too, yeah?” Isaac nodded, using the back of his right hand to wipe away the tears that had fallen from his right eye.

Mickey ran a hand through Isaac’s soft, raven hair before scooting out of his seat. “I’ll get you some tissue, man. Be right back.” With that, Mickey had gone to the restroom near the other side of the room, leaving Isaac to sit by himself at the table until Mickey returned.

Isaac took this opportunity to take a big inhale and a big exhale of breath. Despite the little bit of crying he did when he read Lydia’s message, he felt a little bit better. He and Mickey got a lot accomplished between each other tonight. Isaac officially came out of the closet for the first time since the incident at the party happened, and Mickey made it perfectly clear that he accepted his son, no matter what sexuality he was. There was still a lot of negativity surfacing in Isaac’s mind – and way more hate messages sent to him than Mickey actually checked – but knowing that he was able to talk to his dad about all of this made him feel better.

That was the moment that made Isaac’s body visibly relax some more. He had a support system backing him up – Mickey, Ian, Max, and even Lydia, one of the most popular girl in school who was nothing like Isaac imagined her to be – and Isaac couldn’t be any more thankful for them being in his life.

* * *

A while later, after purchasing some food from Panera Bread and even getting a couple of drinks from the Starbucks next door, Mickey and Isaac made the trip back home. Mickey made sure Isaac had his phone off during the trip, because he wasn’t sure of his current emotional state, but he didn’t want any of those disgusting hate messages to trigger anything.

At a red light, Mickey turned his head towards Isaac, watching the teen lean his head against the window. His eyes were closed shut, and there was a slow rise and fall of his chest. Mickey could tell just how worn out the kid was, and he just wanted to get him home in the safety of his own room so they could end this day right.

Mickey’s eyes drifted over to the glove compartment for a brief second, and that’s when a sudden rush of guilt flowed through his system. He was reminded of the argument he and Ian had before Mickey left to pick his son up. Not once did Mickey have to use his gun to solve his problems. Ian had been right all along.

 _Fuck_ , Mickey thought as he gripped onto the steering wheel, going down the street after the light turned green. He felt like a complete jackass now. Who knows if Ian will even want to speak to him tonight?

Mickey meant what he said to Ian; he never wanted Isaac to get hurt. At the same time, he worried so much for him, and some things weren’t planned in life. From all those years of dealing with Terry’s homophobic ass, he’s no stranger of this. He just wanted to be prepared in the event that a situation worse than what Isaac was stuck in happened.

Mickey shook his head at his own thought process after a few seconds of driving. I’m probably as fucking paranoid as Ian thinks I am, he finally confirmed without much of an afterthought.

The car pulled up in front of the closed garage door beside their home, turning off the ignition once Mickey properly parked it. Mickey could see Ian standing by the window. He must have been back and forth from the window ever since Mickey left. Ian’s probably been worried about whether or not Mickey or Isaac – or even both of them – got hurt back there somewhere. Mickey honestly couldn’t blame the guy.

At the same time, though, he also felt extremely terrible for putting Ian through all of that.

 _Fucking shit, man_.

“Ay,” Mickey whispered to the sleepy teen next to him in the passenger’s seat. He reached a hand over and shook his shoulder lightly, waking Isaac up within a matter of seconds. “Come on, man. We’re home.”

Mickey and Isaac unbuckled their seat belts and climbed out of the car with their food and drinks, closing their respective door behind them. On their way to the front door, they spotted Ian opening it and stepping out in his black undershirt, some plaid pajama pants, and his slippers. He darted towards Isaac, wrapping his arms around the shorter Milkovich.

“ _Jesus fuck, Isaac_.” Ian spoke in relief, tightening his hold around his son.

Isaac hugged him back, nuzzling his head a little into Ian’s shoulder. He didn’t feel like speaking right now. Ian’s welcoming hug, in addition to all the hugs Mickey gave him previously, was all he needed to get through with the rest of the night. Maybe in the morning, he would like to talk with Ian about what happened tonight. Right now, though, he was exhausted.

“I was fucking worried about you, man. You okay?” Ian asked, running a hand through Isaac’s black hair.

Isaac nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he replied. “I just really want to go to bed right now. That’s all.”

Ian nodded, releasing his hold on the younger Milkovich before stepping aside, granting him access to the rest of the way towards the front porch. “Okay,” Ian agreed, watching the teenager walk slowly to the front door. “Get a good night’s sleep. You hear me, Isaac?”

“Thanks, Dad. Goodnight, guys.”

“Night, buddy!” Mickey called as Isaac grabbed the door handle.

Finally, Isaac entered the house and closed the door shut behind him, leaving Ian and Mickey outside in the dark. The atmosphere between the two adults became a little awkward, mainly on Mickey’s side. Ian’s relaxed facial expression turned into something remotely close to annoyance or disappointment. He knew Ian still wanted to know about the gun situation, so he wasn’t even going to stall on that conversation.

“I didn’t use it…you know, if that’s what you’re tense about –“

“I’m more than fucking tense, Mickey,” Ian cut in, some anger apparent in his voice. Mickey gulped at the way his voice sounded. He should have listened to Ian earlier when he voiced his opinion about using guns around their youngest son.

A moment of silence fell upon them before Mickey took a deep breath. “It’s in the glove compartment inside the car. I took the thing out of my pants and put it there before meeting Isaac inside the Panera Bread he was waiting in.”

“I want that thing far away from here, Mickey. You hear me?”

“First thing in the morning, Ian. I promise.”

It was then that Ian’s body started to relax once again. His facial features were softer than they were previously. Mickey could feel himself relax a bit at that reaction. He’s seen too many angry faces from his loved ones too many times in his lifetime. He didn’t want Ian worrying about anything anymore, and Mickey will admit to himself that initiating the act of bringing the gun with him was pointless and insensitive.

He really need to start thinking more.

“You fucking worried the hell out of me tonight,” Ian broke the silence. “You know that, right?”

Mickey nodded, ashamed in himself. “I don’t want to do it again, Ian. Believe me when I say it, alright? I have really fucked-up methods of protecting my family; I’m very well aware of that.” He took a step forward, keeping his eyes on Ian’s and watching as the redhead’s chin trembled a little bit. Fear was still hidden somewhere inside Ian. Mickey scared him.

 _Fuck_.

“Understand that I’m still trying everything I can,” Mickey sincerely responded. “I’m still learning how to listen to people when they’re telling me the right things. You know that. But I’m still trying, aren’t I?” Ian nodded slowly, allowing a single tear to fall from his left eye. Mickey felt himself shake a little bit at the sight. He’s seen too many tears tonight from Isaac alone; seeing them from Ian just made him feel worse.

Mickey placed the food and his and Ian’s drink down on the ground beside him before he reached a hand up to Ian’s face, wiping some of the tears off his face. He gulped as he leaned forward and placed a strong, sincere kiss on Ian’s lips. Ian slowly but surely started to reciprocate the kiss, bringing one arm around Mickey’s torso. His left hand found its way to the back of Mickey’s neck, rubbing at the short, black hairs near his neck.

The couple passionately kissed each other for the next couple of minutes. They both had heavy hearts for the same reason. They were all about making sure the other was all in one piece. They were all about helping Isaac whenever he needed it. They were all about caring for each other. It’s been that way for years, and that’s how both Ian and Mickey wanted it to stay.

A few more kisses later, Ian and Mickey released each other, blue eyes gazing into green. They were silent once again, but Ian was the one to speak next. “I love you, Mickey. I love you so fucking much, you know that?” His voice was still a bit shaky, and no matter how many tears Mickey wiped away for him, he just wanted to let more out. They weren’t just for the Isaac situation anymore; they were for both Isaac and Mickey’s general well-being. He needed both of them and Max in his life. Losing even one of them wasn’t an option.

Mickey nodded, feeling himself getting more emotional as he kept his eyes on his husband in front of him. He held onto both of Ian’s hands, giving the taller man a sincere nod as he felt his eyes continue to water. “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest one-shot I have ever written. No seriously, usually I'll stop at about 5-7k words whenever I'm typing a chapter of a multichapter story or a one-shot. But I felt like this story idea was more powerful than some of the stuff I wrote to date, so I felt like it deserved more words than that. This started off as a little headcanon thing I came up with for Isaac. Like, both Isaac and Max have been four and seven respectively throughout the majority of the Max and Isaac series, and that made me wonder, "what would happen if one of them was not heterosexual? Who could they possibly hook up with as teenagers?" You know?
> 
> I originally wanted to publish this story for Father's Day/Pride Month, but as you can see, I was late uploading this for both events. However, after everything that happened in Orlando last month, and then the whole Heterosexual Pride Day bullshit that was trending on Twitter near the end of the month last month, I figured, "well shit, who says I have to publish this for a specific month or anything?" And honestly, who do these homophobic fools think they're fooling?
> 
> I'll also admit that the bit with the gun in this story was a little unexpected when I was writing this. At the same time, I felt like it was kinda appropriate to send a message that there are other ways to solve problems that don't involve guns. As an African American teenager, I was very affected by a lot of things that happened recently - a certain death on OITNB (idk who all is caught up with it or not, but just in case, SPOILER ALERT), the deaths of black people by the police, etc. I've been angry and depressed for weeks thinking about all of this stuff, and I guess putting the gun bit in my story was my way of getting some of my feelings out.
> 
> Other than that, I hope you guys liked it. If you wanna talk with me more, as always, [my ask box](http://aridayagrande.tumblr.com/ask) is open. Happy reading.


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